carved-served as a natural and seemingly impregnable wall. Although Lewan had no training in the ways of war, even he could see that the only hope of taking this fortress would be through stealth or the air-and no realm in the Endless Wastes commanded an army capable of such an air assault.
The tower in which he'd been housed was one of several in the fortress-and far from the tallest. The tallest-a massive structure in the center of the fortress-was at least six hundred feet high, perhaps more, and its upper stories looked out over the upper rims of the canyon. From the top of that tower, one surely could have seen beyond the canyon and well into the steppe for hundreds of miles.
All the buildings were of a style strange to Lewan's eyes- one he'd never seen before, all odd angles and interlocking designs of stone, many of which had a decidedly purple tinge. The great tower in the center was strangest of all, for it seemed that great pillars of stone had been twisted braidlike around the entire shaft. They disappeared into the upper stories, and the top of the tower itself seemed a garden or small park, open to the winds on every side. And around the entire tower-indeed around most of the buildings in the fortress-grew vines, trees, flowers, and vegetation of every sort. Some of the flowers ringing the great tower seemed big as shields.
Strangest and most wondrous of all were the statues. Pillars-mostly stone, but there were at least two forged of some silvery metal-rose above many of the buildings, and atop them were great statues. Some were in the form of beautiful men and women. One woman, sculpted entirely from black stone, stood poised on one foot, her long hair and robes seeming to flow out behind her, and one hand held aloft a metal rod at least twenty feet long. Other statues were of creatures that ranged from the beautifully strange-a griffon, a winged deer, a feathered serpent-to the grotesque-a batwinged gargoyle with the horns of a ram, a wolf with three heads, a bearded old man with antlers, and a hugely muscular man with the head of a camel.
Green grew over everything-climbing buildings, winding through the streets, ringing towers. In places it was hard to see the stone. Blossoms were everywhere as spring took hold. Their sweet smell mingled with the crisp scent of the high mountain air and the loamy aroma of the greenery.
A large waterfall fell over the western canyon wall to feed a great pool, out of which flowed dozens of waterways that wound throughout the fortress. Lewan counted no less than eight fountains within the fortress, and he thought he could even see the sparkle of water on the roof of the great tower. How could water flow up so high? People lounged by some of the fountains-men in robes or loose-fitting garb, women in colors to rival the flowers and blossoms.
And over all this-buildings, towers, statues on pedestals, the great dome near the western canyon wall-flew birds of every color. Black ravens, white doves, and songbirds ranging from deepest blue to brightest yellow and every shade between. Lewan, who had lived most of his life in the wild and could name every bird of the Amber Steppes and Shalhoond in at least two languages, had never seen at least a dozen of these birds.
Lewan had never really considered the meaning of the word paradise. But standing there in the late morning air, clean and dressed in the loose-fitting linen clothes Ulaan had brought him, he knew that he could not imagine anything more fitting than the scene before him. This was paradise.
But then his master's voice rose up in his memory. Sentinelspire… you don't know that place. It's… hard to see clearly there. Sentinelspire is a realm built on blood. Murder. I don't want you anywhere near that place.
How could his master have been so wrong?
Lewan winced at the thought. The bright mood that had grown in him darkened. He could still remember a great shambling mound of earth and mud rising, almost in the shape of a man, and burying his master. Had it been real? Or part of a dream brought on by the poison in his veins?
Ulaan had been unable to tell him, only said that all would be made clear in time and that he should not leave his room.
He heard the door to his room open, then footsteps. He walked back through the double doors of his balcony and through the filmy curtains fluttering in the morning breeze.
Ulaan had returned, bearing a large platter of food and drink. Behind her, coming into the room, was the most striking woman Lewan had ever seen. She stood a bit taller than Lewan, and she walked with the bearing of a queen. Her black hair hung in dozens of braids well past her waist, and tiny rings of gold and jewels sparkled among them. A circlet of fine chain ringed her head, and tiny rubies dangled from finer chains on her forehead. Her dress, fitted tightly from wrist to neck and down her torso, flowed out in a loose skirt beneath her waist. Tiny red jewels were sewn into the seams, complementing the silky fabric that flowed between deepest red and the warm yellow of a dusty-sky sunset. Her skin was darker than Lewan's, but where his was weathered from years of sun, wind, and rain, hers was flawless and smooth. Her dark eyes looked out beneath sharp eyebrows, arched in what was something between amusement and offense. With dawning horror, Lewan realized he'd been staring. No, not staring. Gawking.
He snapped his mouth shut, averted his eyes, and bowed.
Ulaan set the platter on the table by his bedside, bowed to them both, and fled the room, closing the door behind her.
'I am Talieth, Lady of the Fortress,' said the woman.
Talieth. He'd heard that name before, when Sauk's men had dragged him into the camp. The half-orc had tried to calm his master by saying, Talieth will explain everything when we get to the Fortress.
'Please take your eyes off the floor,' said the woman.
Lewan obeyed, but he could find nowhere to look. He could not hold the woman's gaze, and anything lower than her face put him in even more dangerous territory. She had ordered him to look up, so he settled for a spot just over her left shoulder.
'I don't know where you are from, young man,' she said. 'But here, it is considered polite to give your name when introducing yourself to the lady of the house.'
'1, uh, I-' Lewan swallowed hard and took a breath to calm himself. 'I am called Lewan.'
'Called by whom?'
'My… my master. Berun.'
Lewan risked a glance at her face and was surprised to see a look of genuine sorrow there.
'That is part of what we must speak about, Lewan. But first'-she spread her hands, as if presenting a gift — 'I bid you welcome to Sentinelspire. I hope Ulaan has fulfilled her duties in making you comfortable.'
'Uh, she has, my lady. She brought me these clothes. I told her how hungry I am and she, uh-' Lewan gestured at the platter of food.
'Forgive me, Lewan,' said Talieth. 'You've been through quite an ordeal the past few days. Please. Sit. I will speak while you refresh yourself.'
Quite an ordeal. Lewan had to force himself not to grit his teeth as he walked to the table and sat upon the stool. He looked to the platter-anything to keep his eyes off Talieth. Beside a large metal pitcher of water and a silver bowl of wine was a plate of meat sliced almost parchment thin. Rare beef, he thought, though he couldn't be certain. Beside that was a small loaf of dark bread and various raw vegetables and fruits-most of them out of season, yet they seemed fresh off the vine. He poured water into the empty cup, drained it, then set about devouring the food.
An ordeal. Those words reminded Lewan exactly why he was here. These people had hunted him and his master, bound them, speared and poisoned him, and… and Berun was dead. The grapes he'd been chewing seemed to turn to ashes in his mouth. His spirit, which had been lifted at the wondrous sight of the fortress, sank, and in its place a hot anger filled him. It didn't banish his fear, but his desire to defer and mind his manners before this 'lady' was suddenly gone.
Lewan forced himself to swallow, then asked, 'Why am I here?'
'You are here to rest. After what happened, you need it.'
'What… happened? What happened… happened because of you.'
Lewan risked a glance up. Talieth stood beside the foot of his bed, looking down on him. He could not tell if she was angry or shocked at his boldness. Her lips pursed as she considered his words, then broke into a very unladylike grin.
'Bold,' she said. 'I admire boldness in a man.' She sat on the stool next to him and smoothed her skirt as she gathered her thoughts. 'What happened out there was… unfortunate. Sauk had orders to bring your master here. It grieves me that Sauk had to resort to violence-gods know he probably didn't hesitate-but you must understand, Lewan. We are in desperate need. Your master was our best hope.'
